France was present. The Duke of Vendôme—though at the last thinking with disrelish of Jeanne's earlier bridal—showed himself a generous lover, and settled £100,000 Tournois upon the bride. Jeanne was as merry as her marriage-bells. Yet Margaret persisted in her displeasure, and only at her nephew's express command would affix her signature to the marriage-contract.
The King of Navarre sullenly content to be outwitted at so good a price; Margaret miserable, dejected, angry with her husband, and lavishing unanswered love upon her girl; Jeanne thoughtless, delighted, accepting with laughter the good gifts of Fortune, and blind to the disappointment and vexed ambitions that surrounded her: this is the family portrait that we find in the letters of Henry II.
"I never saw so joyous a bride," he wrote to Montmorency; "she never does anything but laugh. I have heard that the King of Navarre intends to go to Nevers, taking his daughter. I have not determined to refuse them the permission, for it seems to me that, having married their daughter, I have the best hostage they can give. He pretends to be the best-contented father in the world—you know the man! But from all I can learn from him, and from many others, now that his daughter is really married, he thinks of nothing but amassing a large fortune and making good cheer. . . . The Queen of Navarre is at daggers drawn with her husband, through her love for her daughter, who, for her part, makes no account of her mother. You never saw anyone cry so much as my Aunt when she went away, and, if it had not been for me, she would never have gone back with her husband."
